


Two Methods of Getting Drunk

by sugarcaster



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, it's smut, pls no eye contact, u kno what u came here for just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcaster/pseuds/sugarcaster
Summary: Akira Kurusu is the too timid boyfriend of Sadayo Kawakami. Sadayo Kawakami is the desperate girlfriend of Akira Kurusu. Liquid courage yields to liquid courage.





	Two Methods of Getting Drunk

“Oh god, Akira,” moans Sadayo. “You've got magic fingers.”  
Sadayo Kawakami is laying face down on Akira Kurusu's borrowed couch, letting an arm dangle over the edge and scrape gently across the floorboards. She's letting herself go prone, lazy, eyes half-closed with swatches of light flicking across her lids Sadayo lets herself feeling his hands move nimbly across with confidence, working from the lower ribs through to the shoulder blades and up to the muscles at the base of her neck, tender and tough. Akira tries not to focus on the fact that the exposure of her lower back is the most of her he's seen in a minute.  
The flora on the city's outskirts pushes swells of humidity in, and the summer heat is sapping. The day is hinting hardly at dusk and the swelter is puffing its chest for the exhale into brisk night. It's early enough that lights don't dot the streets, that the trees rustle quiet where still of night would make them seem to bark. Akira keeps his palms in chaste flats across Sadayo's back, feeling curves by suggestion and sidling away from them in all subtlety. His lips seal in curt blankness, level with the horizon. He pushes up her shoulder blades with the base of his palms, half up her ribs, and she lets out a sighing giggle into the couch, and inhales the couch cushion broadly. He's certain that the couch, specifically where her face is planted, is somewhere that he's climaxed before, alone. His lip quavers.  
“You can quit now,” she says, turning her face to the side to meet his eyes sideways. “That was so nice, Akira. You're so sweet to me. You still have to do your summer homework, though.”  
She grins with all her teeth. He's sweating.  
“You've been working so hard. You deserve a break,” Akira says, tugging her shirt back down and helping her up. “You want a cup of coffee?”  
“Hmm. I'd like to eat soon.”  
“What sounds good?”  
She sits herself upright and sticks out a leg, smiling smugly. “Well, first a garden salad with a nice vinaigrette, or maybe a caprese, then a ribeye with all the trimmings, and a scoop of blueberry pie with fresh ice cream, and after that... we'll see.”  
“Nothing to drink? I'm scandalized,” Akira smirks.  
She tucks her legs together and crosses one over the other, outstretching the back of her hand to Akira. “Garcon! One of your finest beers, if you would.”  
He reaches for her hand and laces his fingers into hers, taking it to his lips. “Anything for you, mademoiselle.”  
Their eyes meet and he takes her blush as a cue to turn and walk down to the kitchen. He immediately breaks into a full face blush. He's been with girls, even older ones, but he's never been this needed. He can't think straight, can't effectively play Joker to her. Too much of him and her are touching and it make her harder to touch.  
Rummaging through the fridge, he finds an old pair of tallboys in the back, for God only knows what aborted celebration of Sojiro's. They stick to the rack of the fridge as he tries to pull them off. Whatever got them stuck there, it feels like a portent. He briefly considers trying to bluff his way through a liquor store run before remembering what his face looks like. Akira's never seen Sadayo drink, he realizes. The intimacy is easy but light universally in their relationship and he thinks maybe it's best if they never do anything sexual. They feel like childhood friends, in a weird, very asymmetrical way. For all he could do and has done to his peers in that regard, she's the only person who's ever intimidated him. He's scared of being anything other than slick, in control, debonair. She makes him nervous  
Sadayo is fretting. She's tried her best to keep her relationship fun, light, flirtatious and mostly legal. He's making it so difficult on her. What in the fuck was that hand kissing thing about? Who exactly does he think he is? Why is he not, currently, inside her? Questions abound. She's up off the couch and pacing, trying to stay casual in her footfalls such that she doesn't play off through the ceiling that she's pacing. Kayfabe, she thinks. She also thinks about how he could have and did not cop a feel, and the outline of his dick in swim trunks. She needs the drink more than she thought. She surreptitiously dips into her purse and swigs from a flask.  
Akira has walked back in quietly. “Hey.”  
“Hi!” she screams accidentally.  
“This was all we had. It looks okay, right?” Akira says, presenting her one. The blue and silver label and liberal evocation of American mountains is not strictly inspiring. She cracks the tab.

“Okay, another thing! What! Do! I get! For working harder than any other teacher there?” Sadayo Kamakawi is screaming and pacing across the room, swinging her arms, spilling the precious drops left in her can. “Jack! Shit!”  
“Sadayo, I have a question.” Akira says from the couch  
“Nah, nah, fuck that. I'm not done talking,” she laughs. “Sit there and look pretty.”  
“How did you get so drunk off of one beer?”  
“Are you the cops now? It's cool that they let you be the cops now.”  
Akira shifts uncomfortably. “Really, Sadayo, sit down.”  
Sadayo tries her best to pull off a cutesy maid glamour, at least as much as she can with a face flush and sweat on her brow. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Master! Am I making you mad? I'm such a silly maid sometimes.”  
She starts cracking up. Akira stands up and over her and puts a hand on her shoulder.  
“It's no fair,” she mutters, expression faltering.  
“What?”  
“I'm... better. I'm better than everyone there. I try harder, and I always have, especially since I dropped my side jobs. No one ever lets me have any fun,” she says, a choke catching her voice.  
Akira can't think of much to say. He hugs her. “What else could I be doing for you?”  
She kisses his forearm, her voice all sorrowful. “Akira, do you even like me? You don't ever ask to do anything with me. We don't even go out.”  
“It'd look bad, right?”  
“Not even like that... Like... I have needs, Akira.”  
The room goes quiet.  
“What kind of needs?”  
She breaks out of her embrace and frowns a blushing face at him. “Do I need to spell it out to you? You're a virgin or something? I need my boyfriend to touch me, you idiot!”  
Akira's face is blushing and his lips are quivering. Sadayo takes the beer out of his hand and drinks from it. “Oh, honey, are you actually a virgin? I didn't mean anything by it, just–”  
“No, I'm not,” Akira says, looking down. “I'm afraid that I'm not gonna be good enough for you.”  
Sadayo pulls Akira's chin up to look in his eyes. She smells like fruit and yeast. “Akira, I'm not too fussy. Just... do what you've done with other girls.”  
She sits next to him, grabbing his hand. She whispers, “If it's not good enough, you can always tell me to act like I like it more. I'm your maid, after all.”  
His hands are shaking. She takes another drink and hikes up her skirt slightly. The crotch of black underwear is barely visible  
“Akira, look at me. Up here.” They're face to face. She puts a hand on the back of his head and grips his hair, pulling him in to kiss; first his lips, then pulling back to bite little kisses into his throat.  
“Today, Master,” she says, grinning smugly and gripping him harder. “You're going to learn how to treat a real woman.” His heart's beating so fast that he feels like he's dying.  
Sadayo places a hand on his right upper arm, and the other hand on his wrist, and pulls it toward her cunt. “Pull my underwear to the side.” He nods and nervously complies. His thumb brushes her and feels the heat radiating. “Show me how you touch pussy.” He slides a finger along the lips, feeling the warm and the wet of her... but just sort of running the finger there. He's staring down at the gesture of the hand when she laughs a little.  
“Akira, do... do other girls like this?”  
He keeps staring down at his moving hand, trying not to display embarassment. “Is it bad? I can do it harder.”  
She presses her thumb down hard on the underside of his wrist. He grunts. “Quit it. Ask me.”  
“Sadayo, please show me how to touch you.”  
She giggles a fake, bubbly little laugh. “Of course, Master~”  
Gripping his wrist, she pulls his fingers back toward him, resting the middle on her clit. “Rub that, really gently.” He starts working little circles on her clit and she starts breathing stronger as he goes, picking up his pace, feeling out pressure and period. “Good boy!” she says, cradling Akira's face in her hand. He lazily kisses at her palm. He looks so turned on. Joy shoots through her.  
“Keep your fingers wet, and go faster.”  
Akira wants to tease a little. “Yes, teacher.” Sadayo loses composure and moans escape her mouth.  
“Put a finger in me.” he complies; she's hotter and wetter than anyone else he's touched. His cock twitches when she falls onto his shoulders and wraps around him.  
“Akira. Akira, please keep going. My sweet boy. Oh.”  
He can't take it anymore. He reaches for his cock and meets her hand on it.  
“Akira. Take your finger out of me. Smear it on yourself.”  
They both take off his pants and he rubs her wetness onto himself. She grips him and starts rubbing the same little circles into the head. Tears shake into his eyes; his hips and knees quiver and he gasps. No one's ever touched him like this before. He's a drooling mess almost instantly.  
“Master, you're so ma~anly!” she says, jerking him off and gleefully pressing a knee into his ribs.  
“Sadayo, I'm going to come. Slow down.”  
“Let me see you come, Akira.”  
His hips buck like a dog's as he thrusts his last and she cups the head of his cock with her palm, let it drool into her hand as it winnows down to softness.  
Akira groans. “Oh my god. I've never felt like that before.”  
Sadayo reaches over and takes another sip from her can. “You're so cute. You're so easy to get off. Have you ever been touched like that?”  
Akira tries to sit up. “Usually, it's not lubricated, I guess.”  
“Oh my god, you really are a teen boy.”  
She tents her fingers on his chest. “I didn't come yet, Akira. Be a good boy for me and help me finish.”  
“How?”  
She drags herself over to kneel over his face. “Eat me out.”  
Before he can say anything, she lowers herself onto his lips. He grips her ass in both hands.  
“Okay, now you're getting it,” she says, husky from the exhaustion. “Took you long enough.”  
She grinds against his face, drenching him nose-to-chin, humming about how she has to take care of him so much, how he does so little to treat her, how she deserves to do this to him all day if she feels like it. He's in heaven, all the wet and hot and smell of her, the downward look of smugness and brain-melting pleasure mingled, her lips pouted and passing breaths, her mess of hair. She reaches to her bag and pours the contents of the flask in a slow stream onto his forehead, screwing with his concentration, as she jeers that *that's* what you should keep around to get your girlfriend loose. And the swirls of long, nimble tongue across labia and clit bring parallel impulses to their peak. As she comes, Sadayo pisses onto Akira's face, and the release is so strong she falls backward, moaning and laughing and gasping.  
There's a long mutual bout of laying back and breathing hard before Akira speaks up. “Sadayo?”  
“Akira?”  
“You're really fucking hot and I want to do that, exclusively, instead of anything else in my life.”  
“Some of us.... have jobs. And hangovers, real soon.”

The rest of the night is intermittent naps and soda sips as she's moved over to his futon to sleep it off. At least once she wakes up to see him tending to her and she gets teary, saying, “You're the nicest boy who's ever seen my pussy,” and by the end of the night he just replies, “I know.” He thinks about waking her for the night to get her home to her apartment but the sound of her snoring assures him that there's no probability of that being any kind of good idea. He kisses her forehead and adjourns to her side, and she grunts gently in her sleep. Cicadas click through a cool night, as the air drifts in from the open window. It's otherwise silent, finally.


End file.
